Disaronno And Coke
by C. Holywell-Black
Summary: For Godhead Brilliantkid. The worst idea on the planet is a drunk homicidal maniac, especially if he thinks he's not even tipsy. T for language.


Some things are made to go together. Fish and chips, rock 'n' roll, pen and paper, yin and yang. Of course, these are the average suggestions made by the average individual, who has most likely no history of psychological disorders. For Beyond Birthday, there were other pairings that sprung to mind: blood and guts, Bonnie and Clyde, flesh and bone, and a little something that people very rarely associated him with if they had any common sense whatsoever – Disaronno and Coke.

Beyond Birthday and alcohol was never a particularly potent mix. The sprightly serial killer had set out to prove his own hypothesis: that alcohol mixed with another non-alcoholic beverage could not get you drunk. And to be honest, he was having an absolutely _spiffing _time discovering just how wrong he was. Everything seemed to be fun when you had that many Disaronno and Cokes down you.

He was throwing the beverage down his throat easily. In fact, keeping a tally of how many he had managed in ten minutes, he surprised himself with his own epic splurging of ten half-pints in just as many minutes. The lines on his tally were slowly but surely becoming more and more wobbly.

Behind him was an ancient gramophone on which he had played the soundtrack of his teenage years, that being songs such as 'I Know What Boys Like' by the Waitresses and 'Stay With Me' by Lorraine Ellison. He was one hundred percent (though he spat on the use of the percentage) convinced that he could still hit those high notes. It was this song he now attempted to belt out as he swayed with a whiskey glass in his hand.

A familiar blonde leant up against the doorframe to his bedroom, frowning. "What… are you… _doing_?"

"Mello!" Beyond said excitedly, his speech slurred. He clawed at the air in Mello's direction, staggering toward the bemused male, before gripping his arm and pulling himself up from his knees.

"B," Mello said dryly, "get the fuck off of me or I'm going to break both of your legs."

"_Stay with me, baby," _Beyond wailed, extremely off-tune. "Aw, come on, Mels, it's a _classic_. You gotta dance… just a wittle bit… come on…"

Mello sniffed the air tentatively. "Have you been drinking?"

Beyond lifted his hand and gestured with his shaky fingers to show 'a little'. This was prior to the blonde shoving him at the shoulders so that he landed flat on his back, on the floor. "Aw, Mels… you got really _big _all of a sudden… what the fuck's up with that, man? You could've given me some warning, couldn't ya?" He blew his cheeks out in distaste.

Mello began to walk out when Beyond called after him. "Where ya going now, Willy Wonka?"

"To pour bleach in my ears in order to fry my brain," Mello called back. "I don't want to remember this shit, or have it mentioned by anyone _ever again_."

"Mellie, I'm pretty sure this ain't the worst thang you've ever been involved in," Beyond laughed, then had to stop in order to perfect the sound of it. It appeared that old habits died hard, even heavily, almost impossibly, inebriated. "May I say two words to ya… _sheep sex, _man, _sheep sex._"

"I should smash your face in, Backup-"

"However, dude, ya know I'm right," Beyond giggled, still on the floor.

Mello scowled, incapable of responding within his usual branch of wit. "Shut up."

"Aw, you suck," he called as Mello disappeared down the corridor, then burst into another fit of hysterics. "_Suck_! Get it? _Literally_!"

There was no chance of anybody else on the planet, excepting perhaps Ozzy Osbourne. somebody with the alcoholic tolerance, of Beyond Birthday existing. By late evening, he had consumed enough Disaronno and Coke to chill out a bull but was still standing. The tally stood at approximately twenty-three. I say 'approximately', knowing that of course if you had kept a tally, one would know the exact number, however the lines had started blurring together and any form of counting could only be labeled incomprehensible gibberish.

In a feat of astonishing difficulty, Beyond scrambled to his knees and shuffled slowly along the carpet until he reached his television and DVD player. He couldn't quite recall where he'd left the remote, so he used the buttons on the machine. It took a while for the process of inserting a DVD and beginning watching it to efficiently start.

First off, Beyond thought that the 'eject' button was sticking its tongue out at him, and spent about five minutes calling it as many creative expletive-related names as he could conjure up in his drunken haze. This ranged from 'slimy bastard' to 'titwanking pimp'.

After this, he realized the 'play' button could be construed as a fish swimming left. He was trying to feed the fish until he noticed that the pictures on the television screen were moving. He slumped back and watched them in disbelief. How could a television know that his favorite movie of all time was fucking _Mean Girls_?

"You go, Glen Coco!"

"Don't have sex – 'cause you will get pregnant, and die. Don't have sex in the missionary position, don't have sex standing up… just… don't do it. Promise?'

"Nice wig, Janis, what's it made of?"

"Your mom's chest hair!" B yelled along with her. "Yeah, you tell that jumped-up jock asshole, Janis…"

The next morning, Beyond Birthday's bedroom door was locked. There was no light coming from underneath his door. Finally, Mello mustered up the courage – or was it insanity? – to push down on the handle and enter the potentially dangerous cavern. Upon entering, he froze.

Various bottles of Disaronno and cans of Coke were strewn about the floor, spelling out the words, 'fuck off'.

Well, he definitely got the message. At least B had figured out that mixing something else with alcohol didn't stop him getting drunk. The problem was that when he eventually emerged from his room, conscious, and went to a mirror, he would see that the rest of Wammy's House had taken the time to write 'cock' in Sharpie on his forehead.

* * *

><p><em>My apologies for such a short oneshot - I am not used to writing them, and this was a request from <strong>Godhead Brilliantkid,<strong> formerly Beyond Brilliant. I know it's probably not even grinworthy._

_This was based on a passage in my fic "Beyond's House" where B is called by one of his successors when he's completely pissed. So this is a companion fic for BH. If you like any of my other stories and want a oneshot, please let me know with the details of what you want._

_Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think: I'm sure you know the drill._

_C._


End file.
